The house sitting on the corner of East 8th Street and Oak Street had been empty for years. It was abandoned because people thought it was haunted. So the strange young man who bought the place had no competition, and no visitors. People thought him just as odd as the house he inhabited. It was an average house, but it was obvious it wasn't taken care of, even with the current inhabitant. The shutters were always drawn, the roof was sagging, and the windows were either broken or covered with boards if they had no shutters. It seemed even more dilapidated than the average house in this area of the Slums.
No one came near the house. Even the closest neighbors made sure to keep their distance. Sometimes there were strange noises from inside, and the humans didn't like that. No mailman ever delivered anything to the man in the house, no family ever visited. It'd been that way for years, and that's just the way Azazel liked it.
Azazel was the man who bought the house. He was rather peculiar himself. He disappeared for long periods of time and had a commanding aura about him. He never seemed to age, and his pale eyes were very, very strange. He also seemed extraordinarily strong, because when he'd moved in he'd carried all his furniture into the house alone. But the strangest thing about him was the small pouch he wore around his neck. No one understood what that was all about, and no one asked. That's just the way it was. No one asked questions, ever. Not that Azazel would answer anyway...
Today was a delightfully dreary day outside, but Azazel hadn't gotten out yet. He just, well, didn't feel like it. And, quite frankly, he didn't do anything he didn't feel like doing. There was no purpose for going out anyway, not yet. There weren't many people among the rundown streets, and it was far too early to go to a nightclub where he could, err, eat.
Well, eat isn't really the correct word for what Azazel did though. It was more like... devouring... well, souls. He sucked them out of bodies of mortals who didn't believe in gods, goddesses, demons, angels, etc. It wasn't a highly looked on way of surviving, but it's what he did. And he liked it. Azazel enjoyed sucking the soul from someone and watching the light leave there eyes. Watching them try to fight it, but they couldn't. Not once he'd set in.
The seemingly young man was sitting in his favorite chair now, contemplating his next meal. He reclined in the large black lazy-boy and smiled. He couldn't wait for it, really. But he was content to sit in his chair until the sun began to set. Then he'd go out for a meal.
((I put a violence tag on, just in case. XP))